


trapper never makes it home in this one, sorry

by orphan_account



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Gen, but it's not ship content really, in a if You already watch mash through that lens. kind of way, trapper/hawkeye implied in the subtext kind of maybe, what it says on the tin :(
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:14:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29344950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “What do you mean he’sgone.”The shower tent is suddenly very small.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	trapper never makes it home in this one, sorry

**Author's Note:**

> and I will add a dash of angst wait FUuuCK oh noooooo.....  
> I'd meant for this to be longer BUT I dont have the energy so this is me popping pizza rolls into the fanfiction oven. eat up! I'm not a fan of angst or the entire "what if trapper hadn't made it home" concept Really as a serious one because I like thinking about hawkeye and trapper interacting post-war. but it's been plaguing me so I had to get it out there. especially because I think it would change hawkeye's dynamic with bj in a lot of fucked up and sad ways. which, again. I don't think i'm the one to articulate. but food for thought :(

“What do you mean he’s _gone.”_

The shower tent is suddenly very small. 

Radar looks like he might be sick right on Hawkeye’s freshly showered clothes. “He was given his travel orders a couple days ago.”

“What and he didn’t- I mean he must’ve left something, a goodbye. A letter? _A note?”_

“No, he-” Radar’s practically turned green, Hawkeye feels about the same. He’s wet and tired and learning that his best friend in the whole world is just gone now, apparently. Back to the states without him, the lucky fink. “He was given his travel orders.” 

Radar takes a breath and mumbles in one big exhale. 

“But he never made it to the airport.”

The walls of the shower stall are definitely digging into his sides all around him, now.

“Never made it to the airport. What- I mean what does that mean?” There go his lungs, filling up with water. His outburst escalates quickly. He can’t help it, panic is a natural reaction to drowning. “‘Never made it to the airport,’ you make it sound like he never will. That-” Hawkeye laughs, feeling somewhat hysterical. “I mean he-” 

He never finds out what he means. 

“He was on his way out to Kimpo.” Radar interrupts, and the kid is speaking softly, for his benefit probably. Shit. “They stopped in the road to patch up some wounded, and…” He trails off, unsure if Hawkeye wants to hear, maybe. Or doesn’t want to think about it himself.

Sure. Yeah. Hawkeye can infer the rest. 

Around his sternum feels like ice. He doesn’t want to know, but probably should. Because this can’t be real. “Did they bring him back to-” 

Radar shakes his head. God, the kid looks miserable. If he could do anything, anything, he would put an arm around Radar’s shoulder and turn him around and out of the showers, show him all the way out of this war and back to Iowa. 

“It’s all already been taken care of. They've contacted his wife, and everything.” 

He’s nodding. He feels his head bobbing until he doesn’t, Radar’s talking. Radar says something about Trapper’s replacement, his stomach churns. And Trapper couldn’t figure out what to leave him, or something. Radar’s placing a pinched-faced kiss on his cheek, which he thinks is weird, but maybe the kid’s just become more touchy-feely in the days he’s been gone. Radar has to go to the airport, Klinger is in the Officer’s Club, and wants to talk to him. Or maybe he wants to talk to Klinger? Which would be nice probably maybe not at all right now. It’s a very long way away to the O Club from the showers. A few steps, at least. Sidney had given him a name for this once, hadn’t he? Radar’s watching him with concern and so he dismisses him and as he does so tries to weigh his tone of voice but he’s not entirely sure he succeeds because he can’t tell what he sounds like at the moment. 

When Hawkeye can hear himself again, he’s back in the swamp. Considerably less damp but feeling no more like a real, walking, talking person. He thinks he has a good understanding of the criteria for personhood, he’s known some wonderful real human people in his time. 

Most of whom he doesn’t know anymore. And _that_ fizzles in his brain and burns in his chest. How someone can stand next to you in a mustard bathrobe or a university sweater or a shirt you don’t even remember the color or smell of anymore because that’s not the kind of thing you think about when you’re five, or six, or seven. And then one day; they’re gone. Like a magic act. He wishes people would stick around long enough to teach it to him, it’s a trick he could stand to learn.

He raises a toast, to no one. To the people who aren’t sitting around and raising a toast with him. 

To Trapper. Henry, Tommy. To some fucking general, he’ll remember the name later.

He downs his gin. And thinks to himself, _If Trapper’s replacement is just as kind and funny and married, I’ll never make it out of here alive._

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading all the way through! leave a comment if you like, I really appreciate it. :")


End file.
